


Behind the Empty Face-plate

by Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Body Horror, Detective Noir, Developing Relationship, Lobotomy, M/M, Mental Institutions, Mentions of Suicide, Murder Mystery, Murder-Suicide, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, personality modification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins/pseuds/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins
Summary: In the middle of the night as horrendous crime is committed, Prowl a demoted police officer, and Jazz who is a spy out of his prime, the two of them begin piecing together the clues, throwing them into a web of lies, deception and political betrayal. Will they stop the mech behind it all and save countless lives or will they fail and see what the criminal has reaped?
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl, Others but they're not important (I'm lying), others
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. Sparks in Hands Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be something different and this is going to be dark, so heads up. Please let me know what y'all think!

A street lamp flickered, its faint buzz echoing into the wet street as fog lazily wafted too and fro, letting the winds change it’s flow. Acid rain had melted down a good layer of paint on the benches, oranges and browns staining their metal supports. Tomorrow they’d once again be covered up with a new coat of paint. At first glance the hospital was in slight disrepair, sure every light was on, bright and shining into the night. However, the flyer ramp was falling apart, the metal was dragging down, and the framework was starting to peek through. Some windows were cracked, while others were covered up to hide the cracks. The asphalt roundabout started to show its age with its long cracks and quite a few pot holes. The name of the hospital was brightly lit on the side, _“Sparks in Hands Hospital”._ The glow definitely fought back the night, even if the lighting bugs were trying to eat away at it.

A faint tune was whistled in the wind as a large chubby mech hobbled down the degrading sidewalk. His walk was a little off, swerving left then right then left again. His limbs had a looseness that only energex could do to a mech. Keys jingled on his side, with dull optics he scanned the outside of the hospital. “Damn fog.” He muttered under his breath, knowing that the acid was getting between his plates and he would have to soak once he got home. 

A soft ping alerted him that he was commed. He rolled his optics and opened the channel. “Racer here, what is it this time Bolt?”

“I-I-I- s-s-s-s-spotted something in the crystal t-t-t-trees in the back.”

Racer groaned, wishing that whoever was Bolt’s carrier hit him harder when he was a sparkling. Might’ve knocked something loose or something into place. “It’s nothing. Who is going to steal from this place?”

Bolt waited a moment. “But it’s a h-h-h-h-hospital?” He jittered out.

Racer barked out a laugh, some of his intake fluid flew out. “Yea a hospital that’s owned by Pharma. It’s so run down that even the Deadend won’t want it.”

“O-o-o-”

Racer closed the channel and kept walking the fence. “‘Something in the trees _ooooOOOOOOoooo_ , I’m so scared.” He snorted, shaking his helm. There wasn’t a dam thing in the trees and he knew it. Racer stopped, plopping down on a bench that creaked, he propped his peds up and flexed them, hearing his old wires hiss. With a loose servo he reached into his subspace and pulled out a spray painted white bottle, then he brought it up to his sensors and inhaled. “Ahh, the good stuff.” His intake popped when his lip plates met. His frame settled into place, as it did the first cycle, and how it would continue until they fired him. Not like anyone cared anymore, not sense Ratchet had left. He yawned, watching his hot vent drift upwards and disappear into the darkness.

There was that strange feeling, that one that settled at the bottom of your spark, and it connects to your back struts. A feeling Racer only got when his sire caught him doing something bad. The uneasy presence of another set of optics. Racer shoved his energex into his subspace and slowly sat up, then flicked on his headlights. Slowly he rose to his peds and turned on his highs and stared out at the thick untrimmed crystal trees. It was the Wellspring season, when Cybertron’s systems pumped out fresh energon and oil, and the trees turned from that awful shade of purple to bright blue. Racer stood there, his engine grinding to a halt as he waited, alone, in the darkness. A crystal fell, he pointed his lights in that direction then flicked his com channel open. “Bolt.”

“Yea?”

Racer felt the breeze past him, his old wheels spun with the sudden need to touch the fresh track. The air was hot with the scent of exhaust fumes, he knew this blend by spark. The synthetic strands behind him crunched. Racer spun around, feeling his spark drop out of its case. Before him stood a massive mech, optics met for a moment- red and empty. Racer felt a quiver run up his struts just as the mech lifted his arm. 

Racer went flying. The fastest he moved since the accident, impact was a feeling he never missed though. His frame was slammed against the asphalt, tiny sparks flicked away from him. He groaned, his processor already fuzzy from the energex in his tanks, his optics filled with static and his comm was heavily damaged. Somehow he could make out the fist, the mech paused, then proceeded to punch Racer in the helm.

With a single hit the night guard was out. Lightly leaking, but fine. If anything the hospital would help him. The mech stood over the beaten retired speedster as his digits twitched, and ped tapped. With ease, he glided over the strands. He could hear them crunch with each pedstep, and not once did their attention deter him from the west wing.

Hesitating once more before jumping onto a tree, he felt its crystal crack, but not give as a branch moved. As it bent back into place, his frame was propelled forward. Digits scraped and caught the window cell and the already broken glass shattered as the massive frame squeezed in. Slowly their peds slammed down, as they towered in the small room. Almost as an afterthought, the mech reached up slowly rubbing their chassis before pressing forward into the hospital. 


	2. A Full Praxian Day

A bag, transparent with a slight pinkish film gleamed in the sunlight, it danced with the wind, flying up, spinning and drifting down. With a crunch it’s dance ended in a matt black servo that darted out like a tunnel snake. The cold jaws tightened and the bag was brought down, once more the wind tried to dance with the plastic. The bag trembled under the blue visor. 

His optics narrowed at the sight, his denta flashed in a wild display, he shoved the trash into the nearest waste bin and stomped forward. The crowds parted for him, easily picking up on his tense nature, with carefully placed peds he pressed through the street. The sounds of the living city around him filled his helm, the steam from the underground railway hissed, an old bonded couple feeding the cyber birds energon chips, the beeping of a sparkling throwing a public tantrum. Then there was that sound, that slick slurping sound. A shutter ran up his back struts and he turned down an alleyway, his optics quickly picking up piles and piles of filth. Trailing down the alleyway he found the source, two mechs, one was polished, new paint, while the other had dents, and tiny bits of rust. 

Prowl’s tanks turned and he cleared his intake, the polished mech gasped, jumping away from the buy mech. He stumbled back, array in full view, the buy mech sunk back, like a wild cybercat, waiting for the officer to go after his employer. “I’m sure I interrupted, but I don’t care, public facing is against the law, under article 15-”

The polished mech groaned, rolling his optics and shoving his array away. “Great, it’s you, the tight aft.” He grumbled. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just look the other way, like the rest of the force?”

Prowl hissed. “I’ll have to bring you in for processing,” He pulled out a set of cuffs. “You have the right to an attorney, the right to a fair trial-” He started just as the buy mech slipped off, Prowl spun around but the white and grey frame had already mixed into the city. With one servo he grabbed the other mech’s arm and pulled him close, locking the cuffs on him. “The right to a fair trial, and anything you say can and will be counted against you in trial.” He pulled the mech along, out of the alleyway and back into the crowded streets.

The mech fought but Prowl kept his grip, sending a comm to the station, stating he caught another one but the buy mech got away. They continued down the street, Prowl started to pick up tiny details here and there, a chipped paint job, a squealing bearing, the steady whistle from a stranger. But he didn’t catch a ped flying out and swooping under his legs, Prowl went helm over peds, face planting in the filthy street. He snarled and picked himself up, hearing mech gasp and other snicker, he turned towards the cause. 

A street wise mech, he’d seen this bot before. He thought the world was on his side, and that he could get away with anything, and for the most part he could. But then again, he was messing with insec- officer Prowl. Prowl didn’t know when he moved to Praxus, but he’d seen his face before. Black helm, blue visor, that cheeky smile, red and blue racing stripes and his whole posture almost screamed a demon in the berth. Or well, the curves did.

Prowl jumped up, he wasn’t as tall as the mech, but he could at least scare him, he flexed his plates and pulled in his field. “Mind explaining to me why you interfered with police business?”

The mech shrugged, blowing out cool air from his intake. “Looked like fun.”

Prowl sputtered, his engine roared. “Well that ‘fun’ just got you a ticket to the station,” He pulled out another set of cuffs. Not the first time he’s arrested this mech, the mech’s flat is a magnet for parties. Loud all night parties, parties that the whole city could hear. Prowl never bothered to learn his name, but he did rember that stupid smirk he wore

“Ohhh, kinky, and I thought I’d have to bring my own,” he pouted, lifting his servos up to Prowl. “Not even going to take me to a bar? Or get a cube?”

Prowl slapped them on, rough, he ignored the tiny mewl then the chuckle the mech made. He pulled the mech down the sidewalk towards the station, once more reporting, the original offender escaped and that the current mech helped the other criminal escape. 

The mech whistled, and tapped his ped, creating a fast beat, an obnoxious beat, one that the city flowed into and he only multiplied said beat. Prowl jerked the cuffs, causing the mech to stop. He frowned. “Ah, so you’re the mech that’s so wound up that everyone has bets on if you’ll make it to 2 million?”

Prowl didn’t say anything, waiting for the light to change so they could cross.

“Yea, it’s you.” The mech stated, whistling once more, his helm turning all over the place, picking up the city around them. Then he stopped hearing the soft beep. “D’awh, hi there little guy.” He leaned down, his intake making funny faces at the bitlet that stared up at him, held tightly in the carrier’s arms. “Are you going for a little walk?”

Prowl rolled his optics, sparing a side glance at the bitlet, little thing was blowing bubbles. He winched, feeling a tiny bit of his wall crumble at the sight, his servo tightened on the cuffs and his door wings stood tall. The bitlet squeaked in fear and hid behind their carrier’s neck.

“Dawh, you spooked him.” The criminal frowned. 

The light turned green and they crossed the street, the carrier and bitlet slipping away into the crowds. Prowl pushed the criminal along, gritting his denta as his chassis filled with a raw painful ache. 

“Hey, ow, ow!” He hissed. “I’m into it but not like that!”

Prowl paused, venting, shutting his optics, once more resembling his wall, his high, high led walls. Slowly the pain faded away and his processor was once more clear. He had standards, even if he was a low level cop, Prowl gently looked at the mech’s servos, nothing but some scrapes and peeled paint. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“You alright there mech?”

“I’m fine, let’s just get you to the station.”

“Okay, but I’m still whistling even if you don’t like it.” He snapped before taking into another catchy whistle. 

Prowl rolled his optics, glad that visors were mandatory for enforcers, and he pushed the tune into the back of his helm and took in his city. There was the normal amount of litter, traffic started to pick up around this time, and it looked like it might rain soon. Then there was the new details he started to pick up, the election was soon, and Iacon was right next to Praxus, so the political arena was starting to heat up. 

Simple Sentinel or Optimus, only 2 choices. Not to mention the recent missing posters of the 3rd runner up, Shockwave. There wasn’t a building that his face wasn’t plastered onto, and yet no one knew where the senator went. But the lack of action by the council sent Cybertron into an uproar, thus the election. Prowl didn’t care much, he had his own issues to handle, to him it didn’t matter who won and who lost.

They stepped up the stairs and into the office, greeted with an already packed enforcer office. Mechs inside rushed to an fro, yelling, some stood in line, others sat, a few were either in recharge or drugged out.

“Yeesh, is this where you spend your time?” The mech said, curling up his intake. “I knew Praxus had a problem, but not this bad.”

Prowl didn’t let the comment phase him, taking the mech to a processor and pulling out the live video chip and handing it off. He mumbled a thanks to the processor watching the rookie scramble about, and struggle to keep up with the workload. Prowl effortlessly floated through the chaos and towards the energon dispenser. Mechs spotted him, and left the dispenser. He was used to it, being left out, he wasn’t here for the social aspect, just to refuel. Not only that but he really didn’t want to hear what the rest of the office was saying behind his struts. He shut his optics and slowly refueled.

“Chief I don’t get it, why did you send us down to check out a hospital?” Sideswipe hissed.

Kup groaned. “I don’t give a frag, but there was a break in, and the hospital is missing a few bits and bops,” he invented. “It’s you job.”

“And you want us to investigate it?” Sunstreaker snapped.

“It’s. Your. Job.” Kup finished. 

The twins groaned. “Maybe you shouldn’t have demoted that ‘stick in the mud’?” Sunstreaker sassed back leaving the office, the two twins stomped towards their own office.

Prowl leaned against the window, venting and letting his cube drop into the waste bin. There was a break in, a hospital, some petty thief stole some supplies, must be a junkie, but he hasn’t seen the evidence yet. The hospital had enrushance and was most likely run by Pharma, who had connections to the clinic owner in the dead end, Ratchet? Ratchet often dealt with less than favorable mechs, who might've heard about Pharam’s mistreatment, and decided to take it out on one of the ho-  _ NO! _

Prowl severed that wild train of thought, stealing his processor and racing spark, that wasn’t his job, not anymore. He didn’t have an office, or a calling card, all he had was a section of Praxus to monitor and small time crimes. His alarm went off, signaling that it was time to clock out and leave the chaotic office. He sent in his digital stamp and left the cramped building, making his way to his apartment. 

He nodded to the door mech, typing in a code to continue up the stairs, it was a small building, older, but still functional, in a few cycles he might have to relocate. Prowl unlocked his appartement stepping in, the first thing he did was wipe his peds. Then he set his shades aside and made a beeline for the wash rack. It was a tiny apartment, perfect for a single mech, he didn’t know how the family unit fit 4 sparklings into a 2 room apartment. 

He gave his frame a complete rinse, dried himself off, then grabbed a tin of polish. Prowl paused by the fridge and grabbed some take out, tossing it onto a hot plate. He made his way to the fire escape window and settled down with his datapad, pulling up the news as he rubbed his plates with a new layer of polish. 

The news feed was filled with the election, worker class riots, overpopulation, and the break in. He wanted to say it was funny that Cybertron was made of metal, but it was so thin and easy to break that any moment a war could start, but he wouldn’t. He hated to say it but this was his home, broken, filthy and uneasy. The news always made his spark race, but there was no stopping it, the world around him was changing, and not in a positive light. 

He paused over a video feed, letting it play for a few moments.

“After the recent allegations regarding the helm of the council, Sentinel Prime, an investigation is being launched and the Prime is being placed under hab arrest. Meanwhile his right hand servo, the vice Prime, Optimus is stepping up to the plate and filling in where he can. This raises many questions as-”

Prowl scrolled past it, slowly as another ad for the missing senator popped up, he saw the mech’s face so often it started to burn into his circuits. And yet, no one could track down senator Shockwave. There’d been rumours of him, tall tales, nothing more.

He flew past the riots, the crowd control and stopped at the hospital break in, but he didn’t play the video. His blue optics stared back up at him, cold, calculating, that raw feeling returned in his chassis, the same feeling that he tried so hard to bury in work. 

The video started to play.

“The break in happened only a few cycles ago, the thief stole some basic needs, soldering iron, wires, metal patches and medical grade engron. However the owner of the hospital, Pharma, has this to say:”

“I’m upset with the lack of action by our security team, but we are taking steps to improve and prevent this from happening again.”

“However, many members of the staff have been shaken up by the break in. Some have even taken leaves of absence. We have been trying to tack down Pharama’s old business partner for his input on this break in. Ratchet had this to say.”

“Honestly, he should’ve expected it, with how that hospital has been falling apart, I’m surprised no one has filed a lawsuit against him yet, the roof is so unstable that a flight frame can’t land without falling through. However there’s something off, I don’t understand why some mech would go through all that trouble, when my small clinic in the Dead End has the exact same supplies. It doesn’t make sense an-” Ratchet was cut off as a drugged out mech stumbled into his clinic. The medic forgot the interview and rushed to the other mech’s side. 

“It seems there’s more to this story-”

That was it, he shut the datapad down and set it aside. “There’s always more, always will be more.”

Prowl leaned back in the small chair, spotting the one holoframe was off. He rose back to his peds and picked it up, flicking it on. The pain returned at the sight, his spark flared, reaching for something and yet it grasped nothing. It was him, not too long ago, younger, back when he smiled more, then there was his bonded, or well ex-bonded. And finally a data pad, with big text ‘congrats!’. He snapped the holoframe off and set it down, shutting his optics, his denta gritting. It was something he couldn’t go back to, no matter how much he wanted to. 

He turned to the wall, facing the physical clippings, headlines and articles, of what he used to do. His door wings slumped and his walls crumbled, alone in a two room apartment with nothing but his past life. Prowl curled up on himself and let the pain wash over him. Knowing that no one could see him here, and no one could save him from his own pit. 

* * *

The cell stunk, mostly of mildew and dust, there was a leak in the back corner, and every few spark beats a droplet of water would fall into the bucket. It was dark, they shut the lights off not too long ago, most of the mechs were in recharge by now, snoring and soft engine rumbling filled the jail. Sounds that he was used to everything here he was used to, being in a jail cell, it was like a second home to him. Well besides the dust and mildew, his vents didn’t like that.

Jazz powered through, softly rising to his peds to not alert his ‘room mate’, he made his way over to the bars, pushing his servos through. Only to pause and check for the cameras, clear, they were too dusty to even record. He pulled out a key, Soundwave gave him the key, and with a flick of his wrist the door clicked open.  _ Easy, too easy. _ Jazz shut the door behind him and crept through the hall. 

He made his way up to the main floor, glad that there was only a servo full of tried mechs who were either pulling a double shift or were night owls. He maneuvered himself around the first mech, who was neck deep into this report, the mech grumbled and drank some mid grade down. The next few mechs were already half way powered down, in fact one of them slammed his helm down and didn’t even get up, too tired. Jazz used another key gifted by Soundwave to open up the commissioner's door, peeking into the organized chaos that was Kup’s office.

He flicked the night vision on his visor and sat down in the chair, spinning it once, then stopping. The desk was messy, chaotic, yet somehow Kup navigated it with ease. He skimmed over the top layer, reading over the officer’s and their cases, he snorted as he glanced over Prowl’s designation and his report. Admittedly, he was tempted to slide it over to the waste bin, to look the other way, but unfortunately that was lazy on his part. Not like this whole ordeal was lazy, who cared if a chain hospital was robbed? 

Helm of intel Soundwave apparently did. 

He dug up the file, pulling out a hidden camera and made a few perfect copies that were sent right to the higher ups. Once done he shuffled it all back into the mess that was Kup’s office, before once more sneaking out. Then down the stairs and back to his cell, or well, outside his cell, as someone woke up.

Once there his roommate stared at him. “How’d you get there?” He said, optics fuzzy and unfocused, he must’ve been coming down from something.

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know, woke up on the outside.”

“Teleported, not the first time.” The drug addict said rolling over and falling back into recharge.

He slipped back into his cell, fell on his berth with a winc and stared up at the ceiling. Tapping his ped in a wild beat, frustration filled his processor. The ache didn’t go away in his struts. Neither did that shiver, or the itch in his vents. 

Jazz ‘moved’ to Praxus only a few cycles ago. Bored, he started to throw party after party, he wasn’t sure what tip Soundwave got, but here he was. Boredom leads to more parties and late nights, and groggy mornings, and not the fun kind of groggy. It also led to tormenting the local law enforcement. That was fun, almost too much fun. Admittedly, his current favorite victim was the officer Prowl. 

Watching the white and black mech sputter after having an organic plant fall on his helm, or trip with a perfectly placed can, even watching him fume over a plastic bag. Poor Prowl had no idea that every loose screw in his perfect city was all of Jazz’s doing. 

And no matter how many times he was in cuffs, thrown in jail, the next morning he would walk out as his bail was paid. That was the real fun, watching Prowl trip up the same stairs as Jazz elegantly skipped down them like a sparkling. Prowl was fun to mess with.

Sadly that wasn’t his assignment, tormenting the street cop wasn’t necessary, but what can you expect? He was Jazz, one of the best agents, better than Getaway, Cosmos, and certainly Blurr. He fumed staring up at the moldy ceiling. It was a health code violation, but he hardly cared. Jazz knew he shouldn’t be in a cell, or in his overcrowded pit at all. Anything else besides sitting and watching, where was the action, the thrill, the reason he became an agent?

Jazz tightly shut his optics, willing away his internal frustrations and venting in and out slowly. If only someone cleaned up these fragging horrible cells, than he would stop backfiring. 

Morning came soon enough and another officer stood at his cell. “Alright, come on, I don’t even know why we- Prowl even tries with you. You’re alway bailed out in the mornings.”

Jazz jumped up, wincing, the berth they provided was dreadfully hard. He stretched his struts and made his way to the cell door. “I don’t know either, maybe he’s got something for me?” He smirked, the door opened and Jazz slipped out. 

“Come on, got some more paperwork for you to sign and we’ll get you on out of here.”

“Chin up Barricade.” Jazz patted his helm, following the smaller officer up the stairs and away from the jail. 

He signed the paperwork. This was at least his 5th arrest, so the paperwork he could do in his sleep. Jazz nodded and waved at some of the officers, making small talk, and grabbing himself an energon jelly donut and hot oil. On cue, the clock struck 6 and Jazz made his way down the stairs, grinning like the fattest turbo cat as his optics landed on a certain officer.

Prowl did what he always did, freeze up, sputter, gwak and frown. It was kinda dorky. He felt his intake pull up and he flashed his denta, the fattest smile he could physically make. The officer huffed and stomped up the stairs, not before Jazz slammed his servo down on Prowl’s aft, then he bolted out of the station hearing Prowl curse up a storm. 

Praxus’ streets were always crowded, packed, like someone tried to condense every spring on Cybertron into one single servo. Jazz pushed through the crowd, hissing as his peds were stepped on. Somehow, he made it through the morning rush and up his stairs to his temporary hab pad. Once there, he slowly sat down on the softest piece of furniture he ‘owned’, propped his peds up and rubbed them, reached for his can of grease, and massaged the thick cream into his joints.

Then with a huff Jazz grabbed his datapad and opened up a chat with his boss, Soundwave. He grumbled knowing he was late, but also didn’t have a chance to skim over the reports himself. 

“Jazz reporting in.” 

“Good to hear from you, Jazz. I’ve just read the report.”

“And?”

“The hospital wasn’t an expected target. We’ll need you to investigate longer and see if another accident occurs.” 

“What? With all due respect sir, I’ve followed this case as closely as I have. I feel that my skills are underutilized on this mission, sir.”

“Agent Jazz, I understand your frustration, but this assignment takes top priority.”

“Soundwave, you know what I can do, you’ve seen me in action. Wouldn’t it be easier to assign someone else to this mission?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry Jazz, but this is for your own good. Soundwave signing off.”

The program shut down and Jazz set it aside, he huffed, rubbing his sore peds, and stretching out on the comfy seat. “I’m not old.” The dull ache in his struts told him otherwise. Jazz groaned rolling into his side. “If anything Getaway, or Cosmos should be here, frag it Blurr should be here.” Jazz pulled himself off of the seat, grabbing his datapad, and flopping down on his berth. 

There he propped himself up on the soft pillows and started to read the report from last night. Every once in a while his engine would backfire and he shivered. They really needed to clean those cells. 

The report wasn’t anything exciting, it was nothing but a mech breaking into a hospital that was owned by Pharma. Jazz rolled his optics, of course now it made sense. Pharma was close with a few members of the council, Pharma cries turbofox and the council sends Jazz’s aft out. Great.

Jazz set the datapad down, feeling the grime on his frame, he sat up and looked down at his soft berth, seeing the stains and dirt from the night before. “I should’ve washed before.” He grumbled.

* * *

Maybe it was the long shifts in the west areas, or the constant movement his life often took, but no matter what Prowl still felt this door wings shivering. The stillness of the historical district made his spark race and his intake dry. A good part of him wished he was back in the west districts, where everything was busy, no matter what time of the cycle it was, they never slept in the west. 

He paused looking up at the natural history museum, his wings twitched as a light flickered, someone should fix that. Prowl willed himself away, continuing his route before moving onto the next, always patrolling. He didn’t want to stop.

_ Why couldn’t they assign me to the west districts again? It’s too still here, it’s unnatural, I feel like someone is waiting, lurking in the shadows.  _

Prowl stopped and sat down, his servos resting on his legs as he stared up at the cloudy sky. “Do you remember the last time we went here?” He turned to the bench next to him.

_ Mesothulas leaned back, humming as he stared up at the clouds. “Yea, we used to meet here, you’d wait for me right here, always prepared with an umbrella in case it rained. We would meet here, and you’d tell me about your day, and I would tell you about mine.” _

__ He sighed, dimming his optics. “We would walk home together, maybe grab some oil cakes.”

_ Mesothulas nodded, a small smile graced his lips and his optics softened. “I miss that.” _

__ Prowl’s intake clenched and he leaned forward, unable to stare at the sky anymore. His spark hurt. Long gone were those soft sweet summer days, where he would wait out here, door wings twitching with anticipation, that smile he once wore so proudly as Mesothulas stepped out of the scientific research building. 

It was all gone now.

Prowl curled in on himself, shutting his optics tightly and willing his spark to stop reaching for something that wasn’t there. It was there once and it would never return.

He truly hated quiet patrols. 

**_CRASH!_ **

**** His doorwings flicked and he jumped up, willing his sirens and lights to stay off as he followed the sound. It was glass, someone was breaking in, why would anyone break into the educational district? Prowl was quiet, his peds didn’t make a sound as he followed the sounds of glass snapping. 

The hall of record stood proudly in the night sky, lights beamed up at the bland acrutexture. Then alarms flashed and alerts popped across his visor, Prowl raced forward as the front doors pushed open and a security guard rushed out. The guard spotted him.

“There’s something in there!” He screamed, stumbling down the steps, Prowl caught him and held the young mech. He hardly had his adult plating on, optics wild and glitching. “Officer there’s something in there, it-it-it-”

“Spit it out!”

“There was no face!” The mech screamed and collapsed into a pile shaking. “No face, no face, no face-”

“Snap out of it,” He hissed, frustrated at the young mech’s fear. “What happened?”

The guard was shaking, locking up.

Prowl willed his inner turmoil and sat next to the mech. “Please,” He softly spoke. “What happened?”

“Is that all?” Sideswipe pressed.

Prowl rolled his optics, glad that he wore a visor. “Yes, I heard a crash, the guard came out and told me everything. I commed for backup but someone took their sweet time, so the thief got away.” He snapped folding his servos.

Sunstreaker frowned. “Well thanks, come on Swipes.”

The pushed past Prowl towards the garud who hadn't left the steps, only had a soft tarp wrapped around him. He only stayed to watch the rookie detectives question the poor guard, the younger mech flinched when they spoke to him. 

“Could’ve been nicer Prowl.” He mumbled and turned to the hall, he stepped in, passing other officers, watching them take photos and document everything they could. The whole room was packed with files, from old paper copies to digital data slugs, some of the works were older than the building, from the golden age to the credit plunge that shortly followed, it was all here. Everything from Kaon, to Tarn, was all recorded in these walls.

If the place caught fire there was no saving the files, someone should record them all and store them in a few backups.

Prowl made his way past the data slugs to the physical files, where papers flew left and right, some slipped out the broken window. Alpha Trion was going to be upset that some irreplaceable files were damaged, and now some were missing. 

Sunstreak and Sideswipes got the privilege to explain that.

There were tares and scrapes in the shelving, not deep ones, the ped prints were small, tiny compared to Prowl’s own peds. He then turned to the shattered window, some pieces of glass hung from the upper frame, the sides were also still hanging, but not the bottom. There were smaller shards at the bottom. 

He knelt down, narrowing his trained optics at the pieces, the bigger chunks were solid, but the smaller ones, the shards at the base were splintered and fragmented. The window was high up, a few stories up. Prowl then turned back to the bookshelf and skimmed over the papers, the loose one’s. Questions burned at his processor and with each clue more popped up.

_ Faceless mech? _

__ _ Who could survive such a fall? _

__ _ Why would someone be looking at old medical records?  _

__ “Officer Prowl,” Sunstreaker’s servo pushed down Prowl’s shoulder. “Stand down, this isn’t your case.”

Prowl paused for a moment, shutting his optics. The mech was right, it wasn’t his case, he wasn’t getting paid for this, and it didn’t matter. His seros curled up and his shoulder slammed into the other officer before he stomped out and down the steps. 

It wasn’t his job anymore.

* * *

The fountain trickled, the silvery moon light shimmered in the restless water, the hall of records stood directly in front of the fountain. 

Jazz sat there, leaning against the side of the fountain, chewing on a piece of gum, a set of binoculars in his servo. He lifted them again, watching his favorite officer of the law lookout a tall window. Prowl leaned down on the glass shards, then turned back into the room.

That was strange, Jazz knew a well trained operative a mile away, he could spot out any spy, but this mech? Prowl, he wasn’t a spy, but he knew what he was looking at. Only moments later did the officer exit the hall, helm down. 

His digits tapped on the stone fountain, he commed his higher ups, Cliffjumper. “I need some private information, I’m going in.”

The train to Iacon was fast, always has been, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have flaws, it was crowded, rocked too much, and there was a slight buzzing that drove Jazz up the wall. He tried to ignore it and rub his aching joints, but that was hard to do standing up and holding onto a pole. Jazz vented and turned to the window, the Iaconian buildings glimmered in the morning suns. 

It was only when a toy plane crossed his vision did Jazz snap out of his daydream, he turned to the mechling, watching him swing around the toy. “What ya got there lil mech?”

“My carrier, he’s a shuttle.” The mechling beamed. “We’re going to see my sire, aren’t we?” The young seeker turned to his older sibling.

“Yea, we are.”

Jazz smiled, he never had time for bitlets, or a bonded, then again when you’re a spy you don’t need extra luggage or targets, targets that emotionally hurt. But there was always someone who messed up, crossed the lines, got emotionally invested. Sometimes it worked out, Perceptor and Brainstorm retired and left the agency, that new scientist Quark was still rough around the edges though. But most of the time it didn’t work out, Skids still hasn’t returned from work, and Blurr had restricted duties. 

He left the train station and made his way to headquarters, slipping in the side along with the delivery mechs, sneaking in. Jazz turned down another hall and kept walking even as he heard another set of peds behind him. “Cliffjumper, nice to see you again.” He stepped into a hidden lift.

Cliffjumper followed. “You know Soundwave isn’t going to like this.”

They both scanned their hidden barcodes and the lift dinged, and they descended. The intelligence building was known for hidden tunnels, secrets, codes, everything. Jazz still hasn’t found the hidden stairs to the bomb shelter.

“Well I wanted to look into a person of interest.”

Cliffjumper snorted. “Really? Finally going to ask a bot out?”

Jazz elbowed him hard. There was a reason why he was one of the top spies, he never got invested with anyone on or off the job. Sure he fragged someone for some information or to prove he was a ‘trusted’ mech. 

The doors opened up and Jazz curtly stepped off, knowing very well that Soundwave waiting a few paces forward wasn’t by chance. “Soundwave, nice to see you sir.”

The blue mech was unreadable, not even Jazz could read him, having his whole face covered up was difficult, and on top of that his voice had a heavy muffler on it. No one knew who or what their boss really looked like. “Agent Jazz, I suspect this visit is in the right interests?”

Jazz snorted cocking a grin. “It is, I wanted to check in on a certain officer, one that might help us in the long run.”

Soundwave nodded and turned down a hall while Jazz made his way to the records. Once more he scanned his barcode and stepped in, greeted with a tiny black and white frame, Rewind.

Rewind reset his visor and stared up at Jazz. “This is a surprise agent Jazz, anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, I wanted to research a certain mech, Officer Prowl of Parxus.”

“Ah, well I already have 16 other mechs matching those records,” He pulled up a holomenu with their faces and badge numbers, slowly Rewind scrolled through them.

“This one,” Jazz pointed to the officer that arrested him almost every other week. 

“Ah,” Rewind turned and typed in the file code and in a blue flash the dataslug holder was on Rewind’s desk, Blurr stood over it. “Thank you agent Blurr.”

Blurr smiled. “No problem, hey Jazz!” He high fived Jazz.

“Blurr, my mech!” Jazz pulled the blue racer in a hug. “How have you been?”

“I’m good, I’ve been helping around the office, right now Rewind is keeping an optic on me. But hey learning a lot down here.” He winked and started to lean on Rewind. “Isn’t that right, teacher?”

Rewind huffed. “He’s been a lot of help transitioning those old paper files into digital, and it’s good to have some company down here.”

“He likes me.” Blurr teased.

Jazz laughed shaking his helm. “I’m sure, alright mind if I sit down and read this bad boy here?”

“Sure, if you can get this adult speedframe off of me.” Rewind grunted, shoving Blurr’s arm.

“Alright, deal, come on blues.” Jazz turned away and Blurr zipped around the desk and followed Jazz. The two sat, both of them turned to Rewind making sure the mini was buried in his work, then at the exact same time they propped up their peds and Jazz slid the slug into his datapad. “Okay, Officer Prowler, who are you?”

Blurr leaned against him, resting his helm on Jazz’s shoulder. “Why are you even looking into him?”

He scrolled down and skimmed through Prowl’s early life, picking up a few details, his doorwings were extremely sensitive due to an extremely hot day in his youth, Prowl was a dedicated student in his studies, and graduated 3 solar cycles sooner than anyone else in his age group. “Mr.Prowl here is quite an overachiever.”

“I’ll say.”

Prowl went right into officer training and quickly made his way up that ladder, being one of the youngest officers on the force. He was promoted up to being a detective and there he truly excelled. On one of his cases he met Mesothulas, a young scientist, the two worked together and-

Jazz paused looking at a bonded certificate. “Oh?”

He scrolled down and found another certificate, for a mechling Springer, and it followed up with a small family tree. Jazz skimmed again only to stop shortly after as a third certificate popped up, a bond disintegration. 

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” Blurr winched.

Jazz vented, feeling a slight prick of regret for picking on the officer while he was on the beat. “It seems he worked too much and it fell apart...He was demoted, his family moved to Kaon and now he’s here, alone.”

“Poor mech.”

Jazz shook himself, skimming over Prowl’s achievements and focusing, Prowl was a detective. He knew what to look for, from the tethers in the carpet to the glass fragments. “Alright, I’ve got a few forms to fill out and I need to stop by Chromedome’s lab.” He took the dataslug out of his datapad, and handed it to Blurr.

The blue speedster didn’t jump up, he slumped. “Hey Jazz?”

“Yea?”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How do you not get...involved?” Blurr tapped his digits on the table, optics staring out.

He vented and rubbed Blurr’s back. “It’s...I’d be lying if I said I never got close to anyone, when I first became an operative it was hard. But I learned, I mentally step back and away from the world around me. Think of it as putting on a mask, a really thick mask.”

“Doesn’t that mask get heavy?”

“Yea, it does. But that’s not our job.”

“Alright, both of you better get your peds off the table before I throw you out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving breadcrumbs left and right here, so go ahead and start piecing together your little red strings and thumbtacks.   
> So what did we learn?


	3. Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wild goose chase begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly this chapter isn't beta read, so any edits or mistakes I missed, please tell me! <3

The streets busted as always, a mix of mechs and mechlings littered the sidewalks, most of them were in groups. Some made their way to the museums, the monuments, some mechs went to the research labs. 

Prowl stood back, watching the hall of records through the crystal clear waters of the fountain. He wasn’t on duty, he should be back at his hab, maybe doing some light drinking? Not this. Why was he here? It wasn’t his job, none of this was his job anymore so why was he wasting his time-

“Well hi there Prowler.”

“Gah!” He gawked and slid into the fountain, Prowl glared up at the white and black mech. Seething at the sight of that slag eating grin. His helm hurt, this mech was a walking processor malfunction wasn’t he? “You!”

“Me?” He gasped and covered his spark chamber. “What did little old me do?”

He grumbled and splashed water at the mech, who screamed and jumped back, but it was too late. Prowl grinned, pulling himself out of the fountain and shaking off the droplets. “You’re an aft.”

The mech shook himself and stuck out his tongue. “Thank you, at least I have one.”

Prowl rolled his optics and ignored him, once more looking at the broken window that was covered in bright yellow and orange tape. His processor was buzzing with questions, so many questions. 

Who could survive that height?

What records did they take?

Why would anyone break into the hall?

Then a servo slapped on his shoulder and Prowl’s processor almost clicked off, he turned once more to the biggest pain in his aft. “What?” He snapped.

“What ya looking at?” He prodded.

“Nothing, now leave me alone.”

The mech frowned. “What, you’re not on duty and you can’t arrest me so...I shan’t”

“You shan’t what?”

“I shan’t leave you alone.” He grinned, Prowl hated that stupid grin. 

Prowl groaned and tried his best to ignore the mech, knowing very well he was looking over Prowl’s shoulder. He knew the mech was there, but his doorwings weren’t picking up on him, even though they were almost back to front. Maybe that’s how he snuck up on Prowl?

“Someone vandalized the hall of records?”

He shook his helm. “No, someone broke into it, and that’s how they escaped. Raises a lot of questions.”

The mech nodded, his blue visor shimmered in the sunlight. “Why would anyone even break into it? Aren’t those files public?” 

“Most are, but some aren’t, for example, you can get blueprints, but not medicine combinations. It depends on security clearance.” 

“Still, why would anyone break in when they could most likely ask?”

Prowl shut his intake and glared at the cheeky mech. “Why are you still here?”

He shrugged. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Shove it up your exhaust pipe pal.”

“Offer me some energex first.” He teased, ventaliations too close for comfort.

He twisted away from the criminal, doorwings tall, Prowl stomped off, away from the fountain. His tanks growled, knowing himself he left his hab without any fuel, shoulders slumped and he made a beeline to the closest cafe. 

The scraping of his heavy peds filled his helm, it was only when he pulled his optics away from the beaten brick towards the cafe. It was the same building, same location, everything, but the sign changed. Prowl’s spark ached and he stepped in, hearing the bell chime, the exact same bell that he had heard for solar cycles. 

_ “Remember this place? You used to take me here.” Mesothulas sighed, peds unsynchronized. _

Prowl ignored the figment of his processor. “Tw-uh one, make it one cube of warm rose copper with foam, and could I get a slice of that pie.”

Ther server nodded. “And for you sir?”

Prowl turned and spotted the mech from before, jumping, his door wings weren’t faulty right? “He’s not with me.” Prowl quickly put in.

“Wow, rude,” He placed a servo over his spark. “Fine, I’ll pay for myself, sweet spark.” He stuck out his tongue.

Prowl huffed, handed the credits over and stalked off to a table outside and away from everyone else. There he set his cube and pie down.

_ “You know those things aren’t good for you right? I’m not dealing with your tanks tonight.”  _

“Maybe if you let me enjoy something for once-” He cut himself off, not used in getting worked up over his processor fragging with him. Prowl ground his denta and willed himself to relax in the chair, sipping away at the cube. 

The cyberhawks soared above, crystal leaves grew out of the brickwork, maybe he could enjoy this cycle off? Make his way to the beach? Finally read a dataslug he’s been meaning to read? Maybe he could finally try that recipe he found ages ago? Prowl’s frame slumped in the chair and his processor started to doze off, all he wanted to do was think about the warm sunshine on his plating, the cube in his servo and the pie.

“Wow, this is some tasty pie.”

He groaned, doorwings twitching with annoyance, he cracked open an optic and watched the stranger devour his slice of pie. Prowl hissed and snagged the slice away from him. “I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not.”

The mech smirked. “I know it’s not,” His spoon was faster than Prowl, he snagged the last mouthful of the piece and swallowed it down. 

Prowl huffed, tossing the plate down and his doorwings slumped. “Thanks,” His tanks grumbled. “Now that I fed you, are you finally going to leave me alone?”

He frowned. “Not likely.” He fell back in his seat, sipping his own cube. “So sweet sp-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Prowler, what’s got you so up tight? Need some lube?”

He grimaced at the term and the mental image that tagged along. “You.”

“Me?” He froze. “That’s understandable.”

“What do you want? Are you some reporter or something?”

He shook his helm. “Nope, but I was raised by cybercats.” He leaned over the table. “I want to know what’s inside that processor of yours?”

Prowl groaned, rubbing his helm. “About the break in, last night?”

He nodded scooting forward. 

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

“I’ll do better than that.”

Screw his job, the worst he could do was get fired or demoted again. “Last night roughly around 3 someone broke into the hall, or rather broke out of it, the guard was in shock. I wasn’t able to get anything out of him, but the mech kept saying ‘no face’. I left to investigate the scene and make sure the thief had left. A few missing records and a broken window.”

“Huh,” He tapped his digits on the table, face scrunching up. “You’re planning something.”

“No, no. I’m telling you everything I know, now leave me alone.”

“Alright,” His servo snaked behind him on a separate table, swinging around another plate of pie. He winked through his visor and left, Prowl watched the mech slip into the crowd and vented.

_ “You’re still going to do it?” _

“Yea...Wait.” He stared down at his original pie slice, then back into the swarm of bots. “That fragger just used the good cop tactic?”

* * *

The shattered glass glitter in the moonlight, honestly it was a pretty sight. Shame that it was a nuisance and had to be picked up soon. He turned his attention upwards towards the broken window, he saw the best area for his servo. Jazz wiggled his shoulders and aft before running forward, then latching his digits on the faint rim of the building, pulling himself up then repeating the action. He pulled himself in using that gap in the glass.

Jazz smirked, proud that he climbed that with ease. 

Turning towards the records he saw the whole room filled with yellow markers with numbers. Carefully he made his way through the mess, only to stop. A grin spread across his lip plates, a hunched over white and black frame skimmed over the files, doorwings laxed.

Jazz was careful standing over the mech.

Prowl grumbled as the flash light fell from his intake. “Slag it.”

“Here,” Jazz picked it up and pointed it over the paper files.

“Thanks.” He started to skim over the words and slowed to a stop, turning to face Jazz with a pouty face that would put mechlings to shame. ‘What are you doing here?’ He mouthed.

‘Breaking the law, you?’ Jazz mouthed back.

Prowl turned back to the files, skimming them then shoving them back into place, before snagging another one. Jazz read it over his shoulder, keeping an optics out for anyone. He vented in frustration, nothing was making sense. He lightly tapped Prowl’s shoulder. ‘I’m not seeing anything.’

Prowl held up his digit and pointed to a few words.

_ East Ridge Mental Facility, owner: Pharma, Doctor: Trepan, Patient: Whirl _

Prowl snagged another file, pointing to the same names.

_ East Ridge Mental Facility, owner: Pharma, Doctor: Trepan, Patient: Overlord _

Jazz nodded. ‘Okay, so are the missing files from this area?’

‘Yea,’ Prowl frowned. ‘They missed this, these files are missing reports too.’ He then pointed back to Whirl’s file ‘Especially Whirl’s.’

Jazz tapped his ped, nudging Prowl’s aft. ‘Okay so, what’s missing?’

Prowl shrugged and got to his peds. ‘I skimmed through everything, I can’t find anything.’

He nudged Prowl along, making their way towards the broken window. ‘The thief broke out, so how’d they break in?’

‘Same way I did, the guards hardly care to check the rooms.’

He nodded, looking at the glass and the strange shape, the upper pieces mostly hung in massive chunks, while the floor glass was shattered. ‘Small frame,’ He leaned forward, peering out the window. ‘Strong too, this glass is thick, I couldn’t break it.’

‘If they were small how did they get down? Wouldn’t that break their ankles?’

Jazz nodded. ‘Shatter them in fact, they knew how to land, or didn’t land.’

‘Are you saying the thief is a flyer?’

‘Could be?’ 

Jazz perked up, hearing the faint pedsteps. ‘Someone is coming, got everything we need?’

Prowl shrugged. ‘I guess,’

‘Good’ He wrapped an arm around Prowl’s waist. “Hold onto me.” He hissed, breaking the quiet. Prowl clung to him and Jazz wrapped a servo on the window frame, then slid down to the ledge, and then jumped down to the other ledge and finally they landed. They rolled back and Prowl groaned. Jazz grabbed his back plates and pulled Prowl up, the two dashed off into an alleyway. 

“What am I doing? I just broke the law.” Prowl hissed.

“Excuse me, we broke the law, yay teamwork.” He held up his servo looking for a high five.

Prowl slapped his servo. “Primus, I don’t even know your name and we’ve broken so many laws.”

“Jazz,” He grinned, maybe this mech could come out of his shell? “So now what?”

“Well...tell me the truth, why are you helping?”

He wrapped his servos around his chassis. “How about this, I help you get to the bottom of this, and as a reward I’ll tell you everything?”

“Ugh, you are a processor ache.” He rubbed the back of his helm. “Fine.” He offered his servo and Jazz shook it. “Now we need to look into something, what exactly is Pharma hiding?”

“I have a hunch on who we should ask, his old partner in crime.”

“Please don’t use that term.”

“Crime buddies?”

“Ugh.”

* * *

The energon blend was weak, watered down, it made his tanks growl and his intake sour, cheap stuff. He dumped it down the drain and tossed the cube into recycling, tapping his digits on his datapad. Praxis lived around him, mechs passed by hardly sparing a glance. He rested outside the energon cafe house chain, one of many, in fact there was another a block away.

Prowl agreed to meet here after last night.

So Jazz sat on the bench, skimming through the news articles, frowning as the news made his tanks turn more than the poor energon blend. 

**Sentinel Prime out! Optimus steps into office**

**Optimus is a well known mech, in fact he’s seen as a mech's mech. However political groups are at unease with him rising to power. The main group is the lower class Mining & Warframe alliance, leader Megatron had this to say, “I know Optimus is a good mech, but he’s not stubborn. Due to how he’s treated us in the past, we’re worried about Cybertron’s future. I hope he makes the right choices”**

Jazz scrolled past it, recalling what happened a few cycles back between Optimus and the Mining & Warframe alliance.  _ He threw them under the bus, used them, last I heard Megatron was quite upset about it and he was put under surveillance.  _

**Candidates for the next election: Rodimus vs Starscream, who do you want?**

Jazz rolled his optics, nothing but a leaking contest.  _ They’re both good leaders of Cybertron, Rodimus is the helm of Nyon, and Starscream is the wingleader of Vos. However most higher class mechs dislike Starscream due to him bonding with a common shuttle scientist, and even having a few bits. But it seems common and lower class mechs favor him. Then there's Rodimus, the young brilliant mech who took Nyon like wildfire, recently bonding with the war hero Thunderclash. A smart political move, who doesn’t like a war hero? _

Jazz skimmed through the news and filtered it through, still seeing articles asking where senator Shockwave is. He frowned, pushing away any guilt he felt, this wasn’t his fault.  _ It’s all- _

“Sorry I’m late.” Prowl said, fully dressed in officer uniform.

He snorted standing up, he was slightly taller then the officer, so he could fully see the uniform that was 100% needed. Prowl’s magnets hung off his doorwings and his chassis, lights littered his frame, and his shades! “You look so goofy.”

“Hey!” He pouted, he was so cute when he was angry.

“What, it’s true!” Jazz poked his shoulder light. “On the right frame some of this might look sexy, not saying you’re not sexy, but bulky is not you.”

Prowl vented and tapped his ped. “I’m on the clock, so can we get this over with?”

“Fine, well then officer, we have a medic to track down.” He turned and made his way to the lower class district. Prowl next to him. Middle class turned to the lower class, then to the deadend. The officer inched closer to Jazz, wings becoming more twitchy as they passed a strung out deadlock.

This was where mechs jumped anything that moved, and there was a strong hate for officers. Prowl wasn’t supposed to be here, in fact most patrols to the deadend were composed of 2 to 3 officers. Never 1, don’t ever go to the deadend alone.

Jazz pressed forward and they passed another deadlock, a younger bot, he glared at them and darted off into the rubbish. Prowl jumped and Jazz pushed reassurance in his field. Prowl wasn’t alone, and even if Prowl didn’t know it, he wasn’t some helpless mech.

They finally spotted the clinic, Jazz smiled and pressed on, Prowl on his heels. They pressed in and found the waiting area with a servoful of mechs, mostly minor wounds. The air changed and the mech glared at them, or rather Prowl. 

_ Go ahead, make the first move, Prowl isn’t the one you should be scared of. _

“Alright who is nex-” A short slightly chubby mech poked his helm out, and he froze, spotting the two of them, his intake shifted into a frown. “Ugh, alright let me check patients first.” He snapped, fully stepping out, a badge shined in the light. Dr.Ratchet. The doctor quickly skimmed over the mechs waiting, asking a few questions, then he turned to another medic, First Aid and the younger mech took notes and covered. Ratchet nodded and turned to them. “Follow me.”

Jazz grabbed Prowl’s shaking servo and pulled the officer along and they stepped into Ratchet’s tiny office/storage closet. 

The doctor flopped down and vented, rubbing his optics and his lower back. “Sorry about that, as of late I’ve been exhausted, and this fever isn’t helping either. So what can I help you two out with?”

Prowl stared at him for a few moments, it was only when Jazz cleared his intake did the officer snap out of it. “We wanted to ask you a few questions about Pharma, you old partner.”

Ratchet reset his optics. “Pharma? So you’re not here to give me another ticket or something?”

“What? No, all your legal paperwork is authentic and you’re on top of your bills, has someone been-”

“Harassing me? Yes, but they haven’t been around lately.”

Prowl frowned. “Who?”

“Officer Barricade? Barracuda?” Ratchet grumbled. “Fragger gives me the chills.”

“Aright, if you want I can send you paperwork and take it up with Kup.”

Jazz stared at his companion, he knew Prowl was a stickler for the law, but going out of his way like this?  _ I’ll have to ask Prowl about this Barricade. _ “So, Pharma.”

“Ugh, what do you want to know about that fragger?” Ratchet asked, grabbing a cool cube and mixing in copper and iron. 

“Did Pharma do anything shady or have secrets from you?”

Ratchet laughed, he leaned back and groaned, his back struts squeaking. “That mech was nothing but lies, he hid everything, and I was bonded to him. Did you know he snuck around with some night time visitors? Or that he’s got tons of hidden bills? I was a fragging moron not reading the signs.”

“Do you know anything umm highly sensitive?” Jazz prodded.

Ratchet hummed, then hissed propping his peds up, flexing his plates. “My lugnuts are killing me.” He grumbled. “A lot of the bills didn’t make sense to me, mostly medicine, he would order large amounts when we didn’t need them. Then send it to hospitals that I’ve never heard of or knew we had. And I wouldn’t mind if most of the drugs were small, you know helmache suppressors, patchets, that sort of thing. But theses were hard drugs, drugs that were meant for-”

The door opened up with a creek and a white helm popped in, he froze seeing Prowl. “Uh, hi Ratty, I was checking in on you.”

The doctor smiled. “Hi Drift, don’t worry, they’re fine, I’m fine.”

Drift nodded, sparing another glance at Prowl before shutting the door.

“Sorry about that, he’s ummm a helper here, nice mech. Where was I?”

“What drugs was he transporting?” Jazz asked.

“Ah, these were hard drugs, pain killers, suppressors, even drugs meant to put mechs under.”

Prowl nodded. “Do you have any files?”   
Ratchet snorted and snagged an old datapad, handing it to Prowl. “Don’t look through the private messages if you know what’s good for you.”

“What about those hidden centers?”

“There are so many, too many, some are ages old, most likely rusting as we speak, but I think in a file there’s a file there. I was going to go to court and use that all as evidence, but...he convinced me not to, and kicked me out.” Ratchet stared down at his desk, optics lost.

Jazz nodded. “Thank you.” He got to his peds.

“Um this isn’t my place, but...I’d check your systems when you get a chance, I don’t think you have a fever.” Prowl said softly, he tucked the datapad away.

Ratchet frowned, then shrugged. “Well then, let me know if you need anything else.”

They left under the watchful optics of Drift, in fact the deadlock didn’t leave their frames until they were out of the deadend, then turned and ran back to the clinic. Prowl vented and leaned against a building, Jazz stood next to him, watching the street they just came from. 

“Well then, that was interesting.”

“Primus,” Prowl shivered. “That doctor needs to get off his peds.”

Jazz shook his helm. “Huh?”

“He’s expecting.”

“What?” 

Prowl nodded. “He’s exhausted, lower plating hurts, and his peds were swollen, he’s carrying, and by the looks of it he hasn’t taken any transfluid, or bonded with the sire as of late. And the sire, that’s a whole other can of bad fuel.”

“What are you going on about?”

“That mech, the deadlock, Drift? I’ve seen him around, he’s a buy mech, used to be a druggy. What I can tell he doesn’t know he’s a sire either.”

Jazz was taken back, how did Prowl know all this.  _ He’s brilliant, why didn’t intel take him in?  _ He stared back then to Prowl. “Barricade?” 

The officer shook his helm. “Crooked, as crooked as they come.”

Jazz shivered, he would high five that mech leaving without cuffs, and if he was doing what Jazz was mentally pictureing? He didn’t want to see the officer again. “Lets go.”

Prowl nodded pushing the datapad into his subspace, then sending a ping to Jazz. “Meet me at my place, we can figure this out.”

“It’s a date, Prowler!” He teased.

“Frag off.”

* * *

Denta collided with denta, his jawline ached from the constant tension and his brow was tightly knitted, so tight that he feared wrinkles would appear.

Kup sat in his office, smoking that cheap cigar, stinking the whole room up. Kup frowned, he always looked younger scowling. “You willingly entered the Deadend, alone, no backup, then went ahead and questioned a doctor?”

“Yes sir.”

Kup slammed his fist down in the dent on his desk, when he first joined the force he often pictured Kups fist turned into a gavel. The end of the cigar glowed bright red as Kup inhaled. “Why?”

“I wanted answers sir.”

Once more the gavel slammed into the poor desk. “Fragging! Prowl!” Kup jumped up, smoke escaped his lips and curled around his helm. “You are a patrol officer, you patrol! You’re assigned areas to keep an optic out for activity, not running around like some helmless wild mech! Everything you did there was a direct code violation!” He snapped.

He didn’t flinch as sip slapped his face, his denta clenched down once more. “Sir I heard there was a lead an-”

Kup fell into his chair and spun around, inhaling and puffing out another cloud. “Mesothulas was right.” He mumbled, chewing the cigar. 

“I also have a complaint from the doctor.” Now there was energon in his intake, his energon, must’ve bit his tongue again.

“Set it on my desk,” He tapped his digits on his chair. “Prowl?”

“Yes sir.”

Kup sighed, unable to turn around. “Hand over your badge and the uniform.”

Prowl swallowed down the energon flooding his intake, unclipping his badge and removing his lights, magnets and sirens, he backed away from the desk. “Thank you sir.”

“And do yourself a favor kid, get out of Praxus, go on a vacation, I hear Vos has a nice beach this time of year.”

* * *

The energex swirled around and around in his cube, his tanks grumbled, too much copper. Jazz tapped his digits on the bar countertop and stared up at the holoscreen, watching the team wrangle the ball out of another mech’s arms and throw it. A table of customers yelled in the back, upset with the outcome and the new scores. Jazz rolled his optics, setting his visor aside.

He wasn’t a big sports fan, and if he could he would’ve picked a quiet speakeasy, but sense he was asking for a favor the least he could do was go to Cliffjumper’s favorite bar. 

Jazz stared at his twisted reflection, red optics watching him. He got them from his great grandsire, he was a miner. In his youth he would get migrantes not to mention other bitlets shied away from him, so they got him a visor. He still had his first one, the only keep sake he has of his family.

They think he’s dead.

Like every agent in intel, name change, frame modified, and a death certificate. 

“Hey,” Cliffjumper sat next to him, ordering a rather stiff drink, he was a lightweight. The bartender slid a cube down and Cliffjumper slurped it down. “Visor off? I’ve only seen your optics twice before.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Jazz said as the table once more groaned. “Sounds like they’re losing.”

“Nah, this one? Rigged, for sure, watch the ref and the coaches. The Cyber Cougars are gonna win.”

“Why this game?”

“It’s university, they’re always rigged, scholarships and what not.” Cliffjumper shrugged. “So, here, copies, they deteriorate in one cycle.”

Jazz smirked. “Tell Blurr I owe him one.”

“Yea, sadly that’s a short chain on him, I’ll tell him you said thanks.”

They sat for a while, drinking, watching the game and listening to the group behind them curse and get yelled at by the bartender. The slug slipped into his subspace, he had to print up physical files for Prowl.

Cliffjumper finished his drink and wobbled as he stood up, he smiled and grabbed Jazz’s arm. “I want you to know, it’s going to be okay, okay? You’ll get ‘em.” He winked and stumbled out of the bar.

Jazz traced his digit around the cube as he saw Cliffjumper walk off towards a motel.  _ Cliffjumper hardly ever drinks that much. _

* * *

Jazz had files, lots of files, files that were correct, or at least made sense, all of them were physical though, disposable. A question lingered on Prowl’s tongue. How? He stared at Jazz, the older mech, Jazz stared at his bookshelf, pouting. There was a lot about Jazz that didn’t add up, how he always got bail, how his peds never made a sound, and how he could jump and climb like that. Jazz didn’t make sense. 

Prowl turned back to the files, mostly patient files, some files on Pharma and the late Trepan. He made notes, and started making a map, pleased he picked up Pharma’s file and photo and pinned it to the center, then he grabbed Trepan’s and linked a line between the two of them. Finally Whirl’s file and photo was placed up, along with Overlord’s, lines towards Trepan. He stood back and folded his arms.

Jazz stood next to him. “Find anything?”

“A few hunches, there’s more files on Overlord then Whirl, even though Whirl clearly had more operations.” 

“What kind of operations?”

“Correctional behavior. Whirl is a known clock designer, but he had tendencies. Overlord was an officer in Kaon, he would have violent lustful tendencies.” 

“I’m sure you can look him up in your system and find him?” Jazz asked.

“No, not anymore, I don’t work there anymore.” Prowl, once more skimmed Trepan’s file, freezing at his death. “He died not too long ago, but it doesn’t say how. He was young, very young, fresh out of med school.”

“Alright, so Pharma hired Trepan, Trepan was a doctor, and they were his patients.” Jazz sat back, humming. “Ratchet did mention that Pharma was purchasing too many drugs.”

He nodded, grabbing more files off the table. “And hidden hospitals.”

“That’s right.” Jazz snapped and grabbed another pile of files, both of them skimmed through.

“I’ve got a hospital for seekers, at the edge of Vos, too small, it’s a clinic.”

“Here’s one in Tarn, I’ve never heard of it.”

Prowl pulled out his datapad and typed in the names of each one, only pulling up small hospitals with only a servo full of rooms.

“Wait, I’ve heard of this one, it was shut down due to mold and age, but it’s huge it’s-”Jazz cut off.

“What?”

“I know why I know this hospital, it’s Skyridge.”

Prowl frowned, typing in the name and getting article after article on the old ‘hospital’ his tanks stilled and twisted. It wasn’t a hospital, it was an asylum. He set his datapad down. “What’s the date on that paper?”

“Two years ago.”

“That hospital has been abandoned for over 20 years.” He stared at Trepan’s photo, then at Pharma’s.

“So,” Jazz stood up, a smirk spreading across his intake. “Ready to break the law?”

* * *

Mist clung to his plating, it was thick and hard to see through, he led the way, making sure Prowl didn’t stumble into something. They drove most of the way, or until the road was overgrown and had to travel on ped. Pressing through the trees, over a stream and finally the asylum stood tall in the middle of the night. 

He tore off a sheet metal door and stepped in, Prowl followed then he pulled the door back into place. “Okay, you can turn your headlights on.”

Prowl did, bright beams cut through the darkness.

Jazz winched, his optics ached from the sudden feed, but slowly adjusted, however his visor started to block out the world around him. He slid it off and reset his optics. “Alright so, what’s the plan, Prowler?”

Prowl hummed. “We should find a map, these old hospitals always had one around the front desk area.” he turned the paused, optics wide. “You’ve got red optics?”

He didn’t like how Prowl froze, the shock in his face plates.  _ Oh wow, big deal, red optics! Yes I have red optics, who the frag cares about my stupid optics! _

__ “Oh thank Primus, I thought I was following a crazy mech through a forest with my headlights off.” He vented. “Smart, makes me wish it was more common, but…”

“Come on, let’s find a map.”

He led the way, their peds crunched down on old insulation and building materials. The eerie nature of the building both excited and worried Jazz. He read the reports and studies about asylums, what would happen behind closed doors, he may have put on a brave face, but Primus, this really did put him on edge.

The front desk was littered with files, but the map behind it was massive. Jazz whistled and folded his arms. “That’s a lot of space.”

Prowl hummed. “Most of the files were on patients, some were on drugs, we need to locate operation rooms and storage areas.”

Jazz nodded, tracing his digits along the map. “If this is an abandoned asylum, why go through the effort of going up stairs?”

Prowl grinned. “Good point, so this U shape is an operation room, and this wing is mostly a drug storage area.”

Once more Jazz took the lead, they made their way through the ruined halls towards the storage areas. They paused at a lock handing off a door, Jazz chuckled and pulled out his pick, in a few moments the lock popped off and the door slid open. Prowl flashed his lights into the room. Wall to wall, medicine, neatly packaged away, everything from painkillers to coma inducing filled the room. 

“Ratchet was right, Pharma is selling this off.” Jazz said.

Prowl snagged a bottle and flipped it over. “Tsk, it’s expired, all of it is.” He set the bottle down and took photos. 

Jazz turned down the hall and noticed more locks. “Prowler? I think all of these are filled with expired goodies.”

Prowl flashed his lights. “Should we open them up?”

Jazz nodded.

It was only 3 rooms in that they found a book, filled with dates, sales, and credits. Prowl tucked it away.

They left the medicine storage rooms and made their way towards the U shaped hall, passing several other rooms that made Jazz’s plates crawl.  _ Why am I even here? This has nothing to do with senator Shockwave, I’m just uncovering a mad medic’s secrets.  _ Jazz grumbled and they pressed on. Past the elective therapy rooms, the showers and cafeteria.

**_CRUNCH!_ **

**** Jazz jumped back stumbling into Prowl, he glared down at the floor. A servo, blue, laid out in the middle of the floor, energon stained. Prowl’s lights landed on it, slowly they turned towards one of the operation rooms and looked inside.

An old operating table was in the center, several newer models of machines littered the sides, a gurney filled with rusty uncleaned tools. 

They stepped into the room, the air was heavy, it made Jazz’s tanks spin and his spark race. Energon was everywhere, bits of wiring and plating littered the floor. The table was stained pink. 

“Prowl,” Jazz stared at the tools. “I think I know what they were doing here.”

Prowl was still, his servo grabbed Jazz’s, digits tightening. “J-Jazz?” 

He turned and spotted what Prowl was staring at, not one, but two sets of optics, offline, dusty. Two helms were staring at them, faces twisted in agony, intakes stretched open. There was a whole next to their optics, the same size as the long tool on the gurney.

One helm was white, with yellow optics and blue outer plating, the same color as the servo. Whirl.

The other Jazz had seen for months, the reason he was sent to Praxus, why he was working alongside Prowl. Senator Shockwave’s helm started off in horror, two holes drilled next to his optics. The holes would whistle, only a shell of what was once the senator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only planning on writing like 10-12ish chapters, so this is going to be a wild ride!  
> I'll just set some bread crumbs here and there.


	4. It's a bit deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl finds a clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up this chapter does mention suicide, we're taking a darker turn but this is where the real fun stuff is starting!

**CEO Pharma arrested of drug trafficking**

**CEO suspected of mech slaughter**

He turned away from the news, muting his holo vid, he only just installed it, nothing on. Prowl grumbled propping up his peds and rubbing just under his chevron. Another ping popped up, from Kup, he skimmed the message, once more he found himself at a crossroads. He could continue working with the estranged Jazz, or once more fall into the exact same office, desk and all. He could be a detective again, in fact he was practically already one. 

Prowl tapped his digits on the table, his optics starting to fuzz and become unfocused. Kup or Jazz, the life he knew, or the hidden depths. He chewed at the inside of his his intake, pulling off a bit of mech and cutting it between his denta, he felt his own energon bubble up in the back of his throat. 

_ Why is this so hard? You just need a paint job, slap your lights back on and start solving cases.  _

_ “That's not all of it, is it?” _

His helm landed softly on the nook table. “No, I...Ugh!” He hissed, once more bitting off a chunk of his intake and chewing it. 

_ “What is it?” _

“I don’t like the way I feel, I should just accept the offer and just move on.”

_ “But that’s not you, or well that’s not how you work. Prowl you’re a mech who's always been work driven. You know when something isn’t right, so what’s not right?” _

“I don’t know!” He slammed his fist into the table. “I don’t understand.” Prowl stared up at the map, the red wire tied between Pharma, Trepan, then 3 wires pulled down to the other helm, Whirl, the name Overlord, and finally Senator Shockwave. “Why would Pharma do such a thing?”

_ “That’s not it is it, or at least not all of it, ah never leaving anything unfinished. Well almost anything.” Mesothulas vented, his servo over Prowl’s. _

Prowl glared at the ghostly figure, knowing it was only his processor trying to cope with everything, trying to make him feel less alone. “It felt good, I mean, going out there, sneaking around, whispering clues to one another, I-”

_ Mesothulas sat back, his optics did that thing, that crinkle, it was full of love, but also sadness. “You know what’s happening right? Don’t you Prowl? It felt good to do that, breaking in, hiding in the shadows, picking up facts and piecing it all together. But you’ve done that before, I know this look you have, the frustration. It felt good this time, because he was there, with you.” _

Prowl’s wings slumped and his digits raked across the nook table. Mesothulas was right, and that scared him. “Not again, I can’t, I-”

There was a ping that cut the ex-officer off, he pinged back and allowed his door to unlock, the white and black frame slid in, whistling some song with a bag on his arm. “Well if it ain’t my favorite officer,” He winked under the visor. “Hiya Prowler.”

__ “Hi Jazz, what’s this?” Prowl stood up, his joints cracking, he’d been sitting too long, too stressed. 

“A lil celebration,” He placed the baggy on the table and pulled out a pie from that shop, along with two blends and flopped down, right in the seat Mesothulas was in. Jazz grinned, stirring his own cube. “So, how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” He grabbed the other cube, his wings fluttered at the idea of fuel, he forgot again. Not only that but he knew this blend, it was his favorite, was Jazz paying attention? 

“Solving that case? Being one the news? I don’t know?” Jazz shrugged.

“Uh, fine, what about you?”

Jazz shrugged. “Fine.” His visor darken, and his frame seemed to sag into his chair. 

Now that was another mystery, Jazz was there with Prowl when they called the cops, he was there when they filled out the reports, he was there when they took photos. And yet Jazz was erased, every photo was a close up of the crime or Prowl, not a single mention of Jazz could be found in any of the articles. Jazz was erased. 

Prowl leaned back, tongue stuck to the roof of his intake, there was an air about his...friend, it wasn’t his normal annoying cheerfulness, instead it dragged. “Everything alright?”

Jazz leaned over the table, he took a small sip from his cube. “Honestly? Prowler? No,” He vented. “I kinda didn’t want it to end? Not the mystery-well-I-I… This is the hardest part, the ending, you fill out a few forms, sign your name and slip away. I like it here, I do, the city breathes, not vents, but breathes, and I thought I just found my note, my perfect key.” 

“You’re a musician?”

Jazz grinned. “Me? Music? Maybe I might give it a try. Not like my name is Jazz or anything.” He toyed with Prowl.

Prowl laughed. “I mean it might be an idea.” He licked his lips. “You play?”

Jazz nodded. “Almost anything, why?”

“How about this, next time you think of playing, at a club, or just in your hab, shoot me a ping. I’d love to hear.” 

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

“So, now what?” He asked once more, turning back to the map, the 4 bright red wires connecting photos and names. “We caught Pharma.”

“Found Shockwave’s helm.”

“Found Whirl’s helm.” He stared at the photo of Whirl, the outcast clockmaker. “Hey Jazz?”

“Yea?”

“I don’t think it’s over yet. Why would Pharma go out and mutilate innocent mechs, and then Senator Shockwave?”

“I have no idea Prowler.”

“Why don’t we find out?” He turned back to Jazz, noticing Jazz was resting his servo behind Prowl’s helm. The mech hummed, a genuine smile graced his intake, Prowl felt his spark fluttered at the sight. Primus Jazz has the sweetest smile.

* * *

Prowl mumbled and pulled out another file on Trepan, another record, he then stared up at the map. “He’s permanently offline.” 

Jazz sat on the table pulling up articles on the late doctor. “He died not too long ago, woah, there’s a lot of dirt on him.”

“What is there?”

He whistled. “Doctor/patient abuse, mostly mental, he only worked with Pharma in the experimental fields, he wasn’t bonded, no known lovers.” Jazz listened. “So, what was he doing?”

“We only found some plating, and empty helms, nothing else. How did he die?”

“Committed suicide in his office.” 

“That lead is dead, and it would take us a while to get permission to question Pharma, neither of us have that clearance. What was his profession?”

“Nemosurgent.”

They both shivered.

Prowl stared at the map, pulling at the wire between Trepan and Overlord. “Why wasn’t Overlord there, and who is Overlord, we have no photos of him.”

Jazz was fast, typing away and pulling up articles. “Overlord seems to be a criminal, jeez, he was caught with several animal frames, it was only when a 3 jour search for a bitlet started and Overlord was found with the still living bitty.” Jazz shivered.

“Okay, so we have 2 leads, Whirl, who is missing a face, and Overlord. Senator Shockwave is still missing and the trail has gone cold.” Prowl pointed out.

“Well, I have an idea, let's follow up each of these trails. We can break into Senator Shockwave’s mansion. See if we can hunt down Whirl, and we can look into Overlord, see where he’s at now.”

Prowl nodded sitting down on a chair. “Get off my table.”

Jazz stuck out his tongue and slid off. 

“We’ll go after Overlord and Whirl first, then we’ll sneak into the Senator’s mansion well into the night cycle.”

“Look at you, Mr.criminal.” 

* * *

A massive frame lumbered about, red optics burned and intake pulled tight, a deep laugh bubbled out of his tanks and it shook those around him. He bellowed and stomped, the ground quivering under his peds. “And then!” He paused for dramatic affect. “The dragon snarled at the knight, smoke puffing out of his nose, flames tickling the knight’s frame, the dragon spoke with this deep roar ‘What say you knight, how can you slay me without killing me?’ The knight smirked and sheathed his blade ‘I will not spill your energon on this day, but I ask you, why feast on the villagers?’ The dragon growled ‘I can not fight my nature, knight. I can not live off what you call fuel, it is the same principle as asking your to change your altmode, from a land frame to a sea frame or a sky frame.’ The knight frowned and he thought and thought, until he said ‘We can change your nature, together.’” The mech sat down, picking a mechling off his shoulder and setting him down on the soft rug, he chuckled. “So the knight and the dragon agreed there was a better way, but the dragon wasn’t happy with his new challenge, however he was happy to have a friend.”

Jazz reset his optics, his tanks turning, it was him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Prowl shrugged. “It’s him, that’s the photo, new paint job.” They stood back, listening to story time, he stared at the mechlings all curled up on the rug, he pictured a bright green frame, a mechling pulling at the ends of the carpet. 

_ “You know he was about this age when it all fell apart, it’s a shame you don’t call, then again you know I don’t want you to call.” _

__ The story ended the mechlings all jumped up, scrambling towards their desks, where Prowl and Jazz stood.

“Who are you?” One asked looking up towards Prowl. 

He froze, staring down at the chubby cheeks, his wings twitching and his intake transformed into sandpaper. Big purple optics watched him, so innocent, too young to fully understand the world around him.

_ “Wonder what those optics look like when one of his creator’s disappoint him.” _

__ “Hi little guy!” Jazz knelt down, grinning. “I’m Jazz, and the statue next to me is Prowl, we’re here to talk to your teacher.”

“Teacher they’re here to talk to you!” The mechling yelled.

“Thank you Jumper, why don’t you work on your letters?” The massive mech purred and gently lead Jumper to his seat, then turned back towards the two of them. “Looking to enroll your little one?” 

Prowl’s intake was snapped shut and his tanks turned. “N-no, thank you.” Each word felt like someone had dropped a hook down his intake and slowly pulled it back up, the sharp tip ripping into him. “We don’t have a little one.”

The mech frowned then his face twisted into sadness. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jazz pressed his servo on Prowl’s shoulders. “Could we um, talk in private?”

The teacher nodded. “Let me ping a fill in and we can take this to the hall.” In a moment another mech stepped in Arcee she smiled and walked around, the teacher lead them out and into the hall. “So, what can I do for you-I’m sorry I haven’t fought your names.”

“I’m Jazz, and this is Prowl.” He smiled.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mr.Lord to my students, but call me Overlord.” He smiled and offered his servo, they both shook it. “So what can I do for you two today?”

“We wanted to ask you some questions, if you can spare the time.” Prowl forced the words out, ignoring the chatter of the mechlings the next room over. “About someone named Trepan?”

The teacher’s warm persona seemed to melt away, his optics turned dark, servo curled in. “I-I think I knew someone with that name? I…” He rubbed the back of his helm. “I can’t recall his face, but I knew him, I knew him so well...I’m sorry I think I need to sit down.” He pulled a tiny chair out and fell into it, helm between his knees. 

Jazz rested his servo on Overlord’s shoulder. “Can you tell us what you know?”

The mech was shaking now, his plating was pale. “He...He wasn’t a good person, I knew that, I understood that. But he understood me, and we-” His intake shut.

Prowl watched the way his servos fiddled, how his plates shivered. 

_ “Oh no, he had it bad.” _

__ “Overlord?” Jazz pressed.

“Jazz give him a moment to vent.” Prowl stood back, eyeing the neck area on Overlord, he spotted the scars, too many scars. 

“He’s gone now, I saw it in the news. I don’t know why I feel so bad, he wasn’t a good mech. He did something and I don’t hate him for it. I should hate him, bad mechs do bad things, so why do I miss him?” He curled up. “I don’t even know what he looks like.”

Prowl patted his back. “I’m not good at this, but-”

“He knew you, didn’t he?” Jazz sat down next to Overlord, finding another tiny seat. “He saw what was deep inside of you, who you really were, and you trusted him. You cared about him, didn’t you? And then he just tossed you aside didn’t he?”

“I...I didn’t need him anymore, and then he-then he-”

Prowl shook his helm, his own spark bleeding. “Overlord, I’m sorry we upset you, I would highly suggest taking the rest of the day off.”

He nodded, rising to his peds and dragging himself away.

“Well then, I suppose that was a dead-” Jazz shut his intake as Prowl shot him a glare, grabbing his companion’s servo and pulling him out of the school. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” Prowl shoved him aside as the doors shut. “What the frag Prowler?!”

“You!” He shut his intake, his denta biting his tongue, energon leaking out, hardly the first time.

“What? What did I do?” He hissed.

_ You weren’t talking about Overlord and Trepan were you? _ Prowl glared at him. “I need some answers from you, now.”

“Pff, like what?” Jazz tossed his servos up. “What does an ex-cop want from me?”

“How did you get us in there? This is a school, I have no authority here, I’m not even a cop, then you just come waltzing in, and we get scanned and lead to the classroom? On top of that, how did you find Overlord when we had no photo evidence, and he vanished off the planet?” He pressed.

Jazz was good, he hardly flinched. “I’ll tell you, but not now, not here, but I want to know something myself, why did you freeze up there? In that classroom, around Overlord?”

Prowl narrowed his optics. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

“Later.” Jazz snapped back, his demeanor falling into his normal loose relaxed self. “Whirl was a dead end, the sun was setting and we have a lot of driving to do.”

* * *

Senator Shockwave was loaded, he owned prime real estate in the spark of Iacon, next to the waterfront, in fact it seemed like he had his own paved path to the ferry that cut across the channel. The mansion loomed over the crystal willows, the overgrown shrubbery, it was dark, and silent as a dead mech. It was massive, made of brick, and engraved steel, windows dotted the exterior and all around a tall bar fence protected it.

Jazz whistled and stretched his struts, he knew he’d be sore when they got to Prowl’s hab, maybe he might crash there for the night? “So Prowler, think we can jump it?”

Prowl rolled his optics, a tiny cheeky smile tugged at his intake, he was doing that more. “Yea right.”

Jazz nodded. “Yea I don’t have those lug nuts.” He eyed an overgrown willow. “We scale that one, and the other one on the other side are close enough we could jump?”

“You’re asking for a broken strut.”

“Watch me.” He wiggled his hips, and snagged a branch, pulling himself up, then he grabbed another and another, and he stood on top of the tree, grinning proudly, even if his wires started to hurt. “Come on Prowler, live a little.”

Prowl snorted, shaking his helm. “Fine, fine.” His door-wings did that cute little twitch. Prowl pulled himself up using the same branch, then he jumped for the other, and the other, Jazz offered him a servo and they stood on top of the tree. 

“Make a fine team don’t we?”

“Yea.” Prowl mumbled, unable to look at Jazz.

“Alright Prowler, this is the hard part, we gotta move fast.” Jazz elbowed him. “Do what I do.” He bolted down the thickest branch, jumped and grabbed the other willow branch and hauled his frame onto it. “I’ll catch you.” He called back, wrapping his legs around the branch.

“This is stupid.” Prowl called back.

“That’s not what that smile says on your face, come on!”

“Ugh, fine!” He ran, jumped and Jazz snagged his arm, and then the branch gave. They plummeted to the ground, somehow landing in the overgrown bushes.

“Ow.” Jazz winched, he was going to be more the sore in the morning.

Prowl giggled. “Okay, let’s not do that again.” He then groaned sitting up, his door-wings held at weird angles.

“You okay?” He sat up, rubbing his shoulder.

“Fine, but I twisted my wings.”

“Yea that was a bad idea.”  _ I’m not that young anymore, I would’ve caught Prowl. _ “Sorry about that.”

“The branch gave, it’s not your fault, come on.” He stood up, shaking off the light anthrosphere he wore, clearing his intake. “We’ve got work to do.”

The security systems were online, but it didn’t take Jazz long to disable them, making sure none of the cops were called. Then he unlocked the front door and they slipped in. 

He hummed, taking in the covered furniture, the dust on the floor, the still house, it really was dead, or waiting. Maybe it was waiting? “She’s big isn’t she?” Jazz said, only to have the phrase echo back at him.   
There was a fireplace to their left, a study to their right, stairs in front of them, and behind the stairs was the kitchen, garage and the greenhouse. 

“Where do we start?” He turned towards Prowl.

“We have the whole mansion to ourselves, let’s start there.” He pointed to the room with the fireplace. 

The fireplace was massive, in fact they could both stand it in, they didn’t because the soot would leave tracks. Jazz frowned as he glared at a dusty chair that was shaped to Shockwave’s frame. “Anything?”

Prowl knelt down next to the fireplace. “Shockwave had expensive taste, each brick is carved, there’s one that has a beaker carved into it.” He snorted. “Nothing.”

Jazz vented. “Alright, now what?” 

“Next room.” He stood up. “It’s rather interesting, this mansion, it’s clearly outdated, museum if you will, not not exactly. That staircase is from the early golden age, so is the wallpapers, the flooring. Then there are the crystals, the light fixtures, not only that but the walls, they’re thicker than normal. Not only that but this whole street is older housing units. I think Shockwave purchased an older house and rebuilt it.”

“Huh, Shockwave wanted an older house? That’s something senators don’t brag about.” Jazz followed him. 

Prowl pressed into the study, it was lined with books. “Quite a collection, I think he has originals.”

“Prowler, why did you throw me out of the school?”

The detective froze, wings jerked up. “You want to talk about this now?”

“We’re alone Prowl, you tell me your secrets, I’ll tell you mine.”

Prowl faced him, an icy glare fixed. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Jazz folded his arms. “Fine.”  _ I have nothing to lose, Prowler already has a plan b.  _ “I’m a secret agent, I’ve been sent to track down Senator Shockwave.”

“Pff, I should’ve guessed, no one is trained like that.” Prowl shuttered his optics. “Why’d you incorporate me? Isn’t this supposed to be something quiet?”

“It is, uncovering Pharma was nothing, and it was bound to happen.”

Prowl folded his own arms. “I was bonded once, to a mech named Mesothulas, he was part of a research team, before long he was carrying and I was engulfed in my work. He had Springer, my son, I wasn’t there for the delivery, I was late. In a few solar cycles we...fell apart and Mesothulas wanted us to split, he took Springer and I was demoted.” 

Jazz stared at him.  _ I knew that, it’s all in his file, but it makes sense.  _ “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry you lost your job because of me.”

His wings drooped but he hissed and lifted his right up. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve been thinking about quitting and moving to a smaller town. The sparks gone out of that job.”

“I know that feeling, and uh, thanks for trusting me enough to open up, it must’ve been hard to be in the school.”

Prowl shook his helm. “No, the mechlings, they’re about the same age as Springer was when we split. What really hurt was seeing Overlord so broken over Trepan. He loved the mad medic.”

Jazz gasped. “Wait, wait, wait, Overlord and Trepan?”

“I thought that was transparent? He was one of Trepan’s patients who went under his needle, I saw the scars. It doesn’t make sense that he had more scars than 5.”

“Primus, Overlord doesn’t even remember what Trepan looks like...Trepan didn’t want Overlord to remember.”

“Trepan was in love with Overlord?”

“So why did Trepan change him? Overlord was a monster before.”

“He didn’t want to change him!” Prowl gawked. “Trepan was ordered by Pharma, and then he killed himself, no, he didn’t.”

“Pharma killed him?”

“But why did Pharma hire Trepan in the first place?”

“Someone is behind Pharma, and what does this have to do with Shockwave?”

“I don’t know, but maybe another one of Trepan’s patients might know?”

* * *

The mansion was a dead end, there was nothing but dust. Prowl couldn’t find a single clue, it was in fact adbondon, left to wait for it’s owner. Jazz set the systems back online and they drove back. Eager to start a new lead, Whirl. 

“Mind if I crash on your sofa?” Jazz yawned, his back struts squeaking.

“Yea, use my berth, you sound like you need it.”

“You’re too nice Prowler, g’night.” he patted Prowl’s back. “When I wake up, let me work out those kinks in your wings, m’kay?”

“Good night Jazz.” He called watching the spy stumble into his berth and snore. 

_ Mesothulas sat next to him, watching Jazz. “He’s old, too old to be climbing up trees and falling out of them.” _

__ _ He’s nice, he makes me...happy? _

__ _ “And you know what you do to things that make you happy, you tear them apart from the inside.” _

__ _ I know. _

__ _ “It’s a shame too, maybe in another life you two would have made a fine couple. Don’t hide it Prowl, I know that feeling, that look in your optics, the twitch in your wings. You want him all to yourself, don’t you?” _

__ _ I...I won’t do what I did to you. _

__ _ “No, you’ll do something worse.” _

__ Prowl blocked out the seething mech next to him, instead he turned towards the reports, staring at Whirl. Whirl the clockmaker, why would he be changed? Why did they strip him of his face? Whirl was a great clock maker, he made several clocks, some of the finest, the clock tower in crystal gardens, the station’s clock, even Iacon’s massive clock tower named Primus’ Pride. Huge clocks, infamous clocks. “Holy slag, he’s hiding in his clocks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm craving comments and input, so please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas on what's going on!


	5. The Gears are in Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Prowl and Jazz are about to get some answers from one of Trepan's victims they're pulled away due to a murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay someone died.

The final letters popped up on his report and, it autosaved and he pressed down on the send icon, and in a flash it was erased from his datapad and sent right to Soundwave’s server. It was an efficient system, there were no digital copies for the agents, only Soundwave got them and once it was Soundwave’s it was the only copy of the report. The head of intel’s server was like a greased up trap meant to catch wamp rats, once it was in, it wasn’t coming back out.

A smug grin curled up on his intake, shoving his cheeks up. Almost like clock work, the green space faring frame passed his office, tiny thing. Cute little thing. No wonder Soundwave had a crush on the mech, Cosmos was almost the ideal hab mech. Cute, hard working, but he had one powerful come back ready, not to mention he had a habit of mumbling to himself when he was frustrated.

He got to his peds and opened his office, leaning against the frame watching Cosmos sort through files, mumbling. “Need something?”

Cosmos squeaked and spun around. “You scared me!” He pouted and slapped Getaway’s chassis. The mech vented and folded his arms. “And no, I just misplaced something.”

“Want an extra set of servos?” He offered, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Cosmos shrugged. “Sure, I’m looking for the fire escape plans, I forgot to copy and laminate them.” 

“Oh my, maybe Soundwave might punish you?” He teased.

“He wouldn’t, it’s an honest mistake.” He handed Getaway a few files.

Getaway started to flick through them, lazily, he was in no rush, and besides the head of intel could live for a few moments without his ‘muse’. So he grinned, watching Cosmos on his knees flick through files and his aft shift left and right, what a sight. Now if only he could catch the two in the act, then he would have some blackmail, or Soundwave could lose his job. 

There’s always gossip in an office, and Getaway knew all of it. Chromedome and Rewind? They were exes, only hooking up for one night stands. Blurr was heavily involved with his last assignment, thus he was pulled from it. And Jazz was about to be sent to the island. There wasn’t one bit of information that Getaway didn’t pick up, from a bit too long of a stare, or the fidget, he knew it all.

“Ah, is this it?” He pulled the blue prints out, he’d past them 3 times, making Soundwave wait. 

“Yes!” Cosmos snagged it.

Getaway shivered. “Did it just get cold in here?”

Cosmos shrugged. “I can’t tell, maybe you had a tickle? Thanks Getaway.” He beamed and rushed off.

Getaway hummed, shutting his door and slumping in his seat.  _ Cosmos, Cosmos, you’re the key to getting Soundwave kicked out, he’ll slip up at any time, then thanks to some connections I can just slip right into his chair. Maybe frag you in his office once he leaves? He’ll be sent to the island too. I wonder how he kept Blurr here after he royally screwed up his last mission? _

__ He sat alone in his empty dark room.

There was a soft flick as the door locked.

* * *

“So,” Jazz sipped his morning energon, his frame felt great. Prowl's berth was a miracle worker. “this Whirly guy, he’s a clockmaker?” They stood at the trainstation square, Jazz pinged the manager a fake id, stating he was part of the elite guard, and they were there, with special wristbands. Being a secret agent has its perks, and it’s toles.  _ I’m waiting for one of these days to fall wrong and end up on the medbay. _

__ “Whirl, his name is Whirl.” Prowl corrected, tapping his digits on his own morning cube. “Whirl was a clockmaker that went mad, for lack of a better word, he was world famous for his clocks, but he became famous for his paranoia and how far he went to protect himself. He set mechs on fire and it took several officers to tackle him. He was sent to one of Pharma’s mental health facilities and that’s when he fell off of Cybertron.”

“Huh,” He took another sip. “Hey Prowler, where’d you get this energon?”

“I made it, why?”

“Mmm, right amount of sweet and that taste of copper? Gotta show me how you make your blend.” 

Prowl paused, his intake shut with a faint click. “Thank you, I’ll share it with you.” He cleared his intake, doorwings high. “Let’s see if Whirl is home.”

He climbed up the ladder rolling his shoulder and turning to Prowl, taking a deep vent and feeling it roll out of his frame. Prowl climbed up with ease and nodded to Jazz, letting him take the lead, then again why not? He’s the experienced spy. He went on holding both sides of the cat walk and making his way to the massive elegant clock. It hung from the ceiling ticking perfectly, shimmering, it almost looked too refined to be real.

They landed softly on the top and Jazz leaned down finding the hatch, and with a twist the hatch opened up. He held up his palm, flat, telling Prowl to wait, Prowl did. He slid down and landed without a sound inside the dark clock, it ticked around him, each gear jerked and shook the whole clock. Jazz paced around the clock, finding workways, lights, and a few cans of energon. 

Then there was the tell tale sign, a bench with a single light over it, drawings covered in ink splatters. He rested his servo on the drawings, somewhere almost final drawings, others were crude scribbles. There was a stack of pens next to the board, smashed, broken, crushed. The light burned bright yellow, it flickered above and twitched. 

The light rushed forward, throwing the desk aside, massive cold clamps slammed down on Jazz’s side tossing him. Jazz rolled and caught himself with his peds, he ran forward, back flipping over the creature and slamming it’s helm back. The creature hissed, volcializer popping, he stumbled back clutching it’s helm, it’s foot slammed down on the board with a distinct crunch.

“NO!” He howled and jumped back kneeling over the snapped board. “NO! NO! NO!” He gathered the board in his clamps and pulled it in.

“Whirl?”

Jazz spun around suprised to see Prowl next to him. “What are you doing?” He hissed.

Prowl ignored him. “Are you Whirl? The famous clock maker?”

The mech’s shaking frame stiffened, then the strange tube like helm nodded. “Yes.”

“Hi, sorry about. I’m Prowl and this is my partner Jazz. We’d like to talk to you about Trepan.”

Whirl hissed. “What? What could you possibly know about him?” He towered over Prowl.

“We know what he did to you, we want to know why?”

Whirl snickered and shook his helm. “He’s dead isn’t he?”

“Yes,”

“Good, may he rust in the pit. You know he didn’t kill himself?” He clung to the ruined drawing board. “Trepan wasn’t a coward, he was a monster. Someone else killed him, I wish I killed him.” Whirl knelt down running his strange clamps over the scattered drawings, he picked up one and it tore in half. “I should’ve popped his helm.”

“Whirl, we can help you.” Prowl knelt next to him, picking up the drawings.

“Pff, what help could you give me? There is no help for a mech like me. They ruined me.”

“We could give you new servos, and find a therapist?”

Whirl paused, holding a pen in his clamp. “New servos? I want my old servos.”

“We can find them, maybe repair them and reattach?”

“What do you want?”

Jazz hovered for a moment before a small ping rang in his helm, slowly he slipped back, keeping a steady optic on Whirl. If he had to he would rush in and make sure Prowl wasn’t hurt.

* * *

Getaway removed his facemask, running his tongue over the deep scars on his lip plates, reflecting back on the mechling-hood memory, his cousin caught a turbofox, and begged Getaway to keep it a serect. The fox got out and attacked him, and he sat in front of his carrier who was pissed that his bitty got hurt, he demanded that Getaway tell him who caught the fox. And Getaway ratted out his cousin. 

That was his carrier, professional rat. And it was a fine carrier, he had the right mechs on his back, and he could get away with anything he wanted. Speaking of, he reached down and pulled out one of the illegal cigars, he lit it and pulled it up to his lips. Inhaling as much as he could, feeling his processor slow. It was against regulation to smoke here, and the cigars were hallucinogens confiscated from the Koan border. 

He had word to do, but that could wait.  _ Soundwave and Cosmos could wait, Rodimus would be easy. Starscream might be a lot harder to find dirt. Then there’s Optimus Prime, that is a challenge. What can I find on a guy that doesn’t even jaywalk? Not to mention he plays the whole ‘soft and cind sire’ card all too well-Wait.  _ He chuckled.  _ The war frames, that’s how, he was a huge supporter of the Kaon strikes, even joining them, and what was that mech’s name? Megaton? Something like that.  _

__ Now he just had to find out what happened between Orion Pax and Megaton, he would need to sneak into Koan and find the miner. 

Getaway sat back, satisfied with the new lead, and his new promotion.

Then his frame sagged and the world grew distorted, there was a figure standing in front of his desk. He knew this frame. “Well this is a surprise, I didn’t see you come in.” He slurred only to have his helm smashed down on his desk and his processor went offline.

* * *

“Trepan did a lot, he fiddled with me, my processor.” Whirl shivered. “They took me there, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. And now I don’t know what I saw, they took it out.”

“What else did they do? Who are they?”

“The rat, there’s a nest of them. They have optics everywhere. If they don’t trust you they’ll put something in your helm, a recorder, something they can pull at a last minute to make you forget everything.”

Prowl stood back, resetting his audio receivers.  _ He’s been driven mad.  _ “Do you know who did this to you?”

Whirl nodded. “So many, there're so many rats.”

“Could you write me a list? Or something?”

He nodded, his frame shaking. “I-I might be able to.”

Prowl stood outside the massive clock, resting his servo on the hand. Jazz was behind him watching the mechs below. Whirl was mad, but the only lead they had, the mostly intact lead. “I want to check up on him tonight, he’s not well and we need him alive.”

Jazz vented. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, I just found out that we need to go to headquarters.”

* * *

His helm ached, like it was ran over by a semi, his servo jerked but he couldn’t touch the dent on his helm. Getaway hissed as his optics came online, he gasped it was muffled and oral fluid dribbled out of his intake. His servos behind his back and his intake lines were cut, along with his vocializer. Getaway reset his optics and tested his peds, they were cut too. His spark spun but he forced it to slow and gather his thoughts.

He was in his office, that was good, if he could just move a few steps then he could escape. And yet his limbs were completely cut, even his whole comm system had been destroyed. Whoever did this was trained, well trained, in fact this was normal for integration. Getaway had even done this a few times, more than a few times, but it was a sure way to make sure no one escaped.

Getaway vented and angeled himself forward only to slump against his lap as his wrists were bound. He then started to wiggle trying to push himself towards the window.

“The chair is locked.”

He stilled, twisting to see his guest.

“You hardly pay attention to anyone else, such a self centered bot.”

A gloved servo pushed him up against his chair, pinning him there. Getaway thrashed in the chair.

“Shh, you know this was coming, didn’t you? After what you did to me?” The bot snarled.

Getaway stared into the icy optics, his whole frame still as the whirling echoed back in his soundproof office.

“I wanted you to know who it is, who’s really behind all this, and the best part? Your employer will make sure that no one looks inside your helm. He wouldn’t want anyone knowing what you’re really up to.” The bot grinned leaning forward. “You won’t get any justice.”

* * *

“Why are we going to your headquarters?” Prowl whispered at Jazz, his optics shifting left then bright.

“Relax,” Jazz hummed, leaning back against the metal grate on the transport. The train system carried them deep into Iacon. The transport slowed to a stop and Jazz stepped off, stretching his frame and sighing.  _ We’re not going to make it back to Praxius, my plates are too stiff, we’ll crash at my place. _ “My boss commed for you personally, seems he’s taken a liking to you.”  _ Almost too much of a liking, Prowler might become my replacement soon.  _

The transport slowed and halted at the station, Jazz stepped off first, snagging Prowl’s oddly warm servo and pulled the mech along. He easily navigated the chaotic streets poor Prowl in tow. They stumbled to a stop as Jazz typed in a code in what appeared to be a random storage unit, once in the door shut and he typed in another code and a hidden hatch popped open. The two of them climbed down and into a brightly lit room, only 2 mechs stood there.

Soundwave stood stiffly, unreadable and watching, arms folded behind his back. To his side was Cliffjumper, datapad in hand, oddly twitchy, Cliffjumper was never twitchy.

Jazz stood between Prowl and his co-workers. “Alright, Prowler, I need you to know that this is top secret, anything you see and hear is highly confidential.” He turned back to his partner. “Is this understood.”

Prowl reset his vocaliser. “Yes.”

He nodded and stepped back. “Prowl this is my boss, helm of intel Soundwave and my co-worker Cliffjumper.”

“Nice to meet you,” Prowl greeted them.

Soundwave vented. “Follow me.”

Jazz fell in line behind Soundwave but next to Prowl, Cliffjumper behind them. “What is this about sir?”

“There’s been a murder.” Soundwave said as they walked down the long tunnel.

“Why’d you ask for us?” Jazz pressed.

“Not exactly, we asked for Prowl, after his file had been pulled by records.” Cliffjumper answered.

“I’ve made an executive decision to ask for Prowl personally.” Soundwave said.

They loaded onto a small tunnel shuttle and shot down towards the main headquarters. Jazz folded his servos, tapping his ped, he glared at their reflections in the glass, or rather Prowl’s.  _ Great I’m a lap dog now, what else do you want me to fetch? _ Prowl stared at him, his face wasn’t as scrunched up as it would when he was thinking, there was a darker color under his optics.  _ What are you looking at? _ Jazz glared at Prowl’s reflection, tapping his ped a bit harder.

“Who was murdered?” Prowl shook himself and cleared his intake. 

“Getaway.”

That snapped Jazz out of his foul mood, Getaway was murdered?

* * *

Prowl had learned a lot from everyone in a few moments, for starters, Cliffjumper was nervous, he kept fidgeting, Rewind was numb, Blurr was torn up, they trained together, Soundwave showed almost no emotion, almost. Cosmos was the worst, he was shaking and kept saying ‘I spoke to him last’ over and over, he only stilled a bit when Soundwave rested a servo on his shoulder.  _ Getaway was closed with everyone, well besides Rewind, he seems to have a slight hatred towards Getaway. Then there’s Cliffjumper who was on the other side of the building with Soundwave, he’s clear. Blurr is pacing, he could be a suspect but Jazz informed me that Blurr has a highly active spark, he’s always pacing. Cosmos would be the most likely but Rewind has confirmed that there was no footage of Cosmos going into Getaway’s office. Not to mention that even if Cosmos was somehow guilty Soundwave wouldn’t allow it. _ Prowl tapped his chin and the temporary datapad that he was given, he stared at the corpse of Getaway. “I have to admit, this is a interesting scenario.”

“Oh?” Jazz grumbled, his foul mood soured the air. “Why can’t figure it out?”

He vented. “I’m sorry I’ve been focused on this, I’m sorry for your loss Jazz, it seemed like you two were close.” 

He shook his helm. “Not especially, we'd have drinks every now and then, he only started to know me before I was given this case.”

“What can you tell me?”

Jazz hummed stepping carefully around the grey frame, wincing at the state of Getaway. “He was a social butterfly, he knew everyone’s creation days, knew when one of us was down and would do his best to brighten our sparks. But he did have a reputation for...facing on the job, co-workers, infomates even senators at times.”

Prowl nodded and leaned in to inspect the corpse, it would be removed later. “It was today, this morning, his energon has just dried.” He stared at the gaping hole that would be Getaway’s chassis, it was scooped out and his internals pooled between his legs onto the floor. “He died slowly, his outer plates were...ground down, and then his internals were chipped away, he wasn’t bound so why didn’t he fight back?”

“His wires were cut, that’s something spies learn, don’t want someone to run away cut their wires.” Jazz mentioned. “It looks like his vocialiser was cut, before, there’s a lot of energon.”

“What about his comms?”

“Cut too, also before.” Jazz huffed. 

“I can’t find any prints either, whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

“Do you think this could be related to our case?”

Prowl shook his helm. “No that mech is taller, and has more power, they would’ve crushed Getaway slowly, made him into a block of scrap. This is someone who wanted Getaway to suffer, this was personal.” He then turned to Jazz. “take me to his apartment.”

“Sooo… what do you think of my workplace?” Jazz asked, flipping through Getaway’s small bookshelf, dust flew up as each book was pulled and pushed back in.

Prowl ran through Getaway’s desk, finding normal files, well normal spy files and information. “It’s,” He paused and chewed a lip,  _ stuffy? Dull? Highly organised? Kinda exciting? _ “Bright, very bright, but it seems like a good place to work, you guys do good things there, for all of Cybertron.”

Jazz laughed at that. “Keep telling yourself that Prowler, if only you really knew. What about my co-workers?”

“I think Cliffjumper needs to find a way to destress, Rewind seems cold, Blurr looks bored out of his helm.”

“Heh, that bad?”

“Oh no, the best part is that Soundwave clearly wants to frag Cosmos’ processor out.” he snorted.

Jazz paused. “What? How did you pick up on that?”

“Same way I picked up that the medic in the deadend is in his early stages of carrying, well kinda. Soundwave is cold towards everyone, he’s more machine then mech on the outside, but then when Cosmos started crying Soundwave would only reach out to him, not anyone else. Then if you noticed Soundwave tried to keep Cosmos close to him at times. He’s pushing himself between Cosmos and the others, something mechs do subconsciously. But when I caught him staring a bit too long at the ‘floor’ aka Cosmos’ aft?” He nodded.

Jazz grinned. “Soundwave wants to frag Cosmos, pfft, I would’ve never noticed that.” He pulled out another book, opened it and stopped. “Oh, look at that,” He tossed a data slug at Prowl. “Alright Prowler, I’m going to check the rest of the books here and see if there’s anything else. 

He laughed, his wings fluttered. “Good idea looking on the bookshelf.”

“Honestly I was hoping to find his porn.”

Prowl rolled his optics but that stubborn smile wouldn’t disappear as he loaded up the dataslug, skimming through it.

**Each target is to be disposed off, I don’t care how you do it just as long as they’re not our problem.**

**Rewind**

**Blurr**

**Soundwave**

**Dated-12.345.2355**

**Rat Trap**

“Well that answers that.” Prowl saved the dataslug. “We have a file to send to Soundwave and a senator to question.”

“A senator?”

“Rat Trap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed me comments, it's been one of those...months?


End file.
